The office was buzzing like a hornet's nest I'd just whacked with a bat, and I loved every second of it. Elaine was gone, Cassandra was barred, and suddenly everyone had something to whisper about in the halls. Their glances trailed after me, sharp and curious, like they were trying to catch me slip a crown onto my head.
I didn't need to. I walked like I already had one.
Of course, I knew better than to think Cassandra was finished. Women like her didn't fade into the background; they sharpened their knives in the dark. I imagined her pacing around her penthouse in designer heels, muttering into her phone, pulling strings, scheming new ways to claw back at me. And somehow, instead of fear, the thought made me smile.
Tasha sidled up beside my desk around lunchtime, sipping her iced coffee. "She's not done with you," she murmured.
I didn't even look up from my screen. "Good. It'd be boring if she was."
Her laugh was quick, disbelieving. "You're wild."
"Or maybe I just understand the game," I said smoothly, tapping a key. "What's the point of winning if nobody comes for your throne?"
That night, the real fun began.
Wine glasses clinked, laughter bounced off the walls of my living room, and the smell of pizza mingled with the faint sweetness of my candles. My girls were sprawled across the couch and chairs like they owned the place: Tasha with her sharp smirk, Janelle with that calm, steady presence, Kiera already tipsy and dramatic with her hand gestures, and Marisol and Kayla chiming in with their quick, fiery commentary.
"Okay, okay," Kiera said, leaning forward like she was about to hear the end of a fairy tale. "Spill. How was today? Tell us everything."
I stretched out my legs, savoring the attention like a glass of champagne. "Elaine? Fired. Cassandra? Banned from the building. HR was practically taking notes on how to bow to me."
The room erupted into cheers, laughter, and exaggerated gasps.
"You're savage!" Kayla hooted, raising her glass.
I smirked. "And that's not even the best part."
"Ohhh, here we go," Tasha drawled. "The Julian update."
I felt my smile widen, wicked and slow. "Ladies, I never thought chasing a married man would be this thrilling."
The room broke into chaos.
"Amira!" Janelle gasped, half laughing, half scolding.
Marisol fanned herself dramatically. "Girl, you're going straight to hell—but I want a front-row seat to watch."
"It's dangerous," Janelle said softly, though even she was smiling. "But you look… happy. Excited."
"I am," I admitted, rolling the stem of my glass between my fingers. "Every stolen glance, every whispered word in his office… it's intoxicating. He tries to keep it buttoned up, but the way he looks at me? Like he's starving and I'm the feast. And knowing Cassandra can feel it slipping through her hands? Delicious."
Kiera laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "You're insane. You're sitting here glowing about breaking up a marriage."
"Correction," I said, raising a brow. "I'm glowing about winning a war. Cassandra came for me. Elaine came for me. And Julian? He chose not to stop me."
Tasha clinked her glass against mine. "So what's the latest? How far has it gone?"
I gave her a sly smile, letting the silence draw out until they all leaned in. "Let's just say… his self-control isn't what it used to be."
Kiera squealed, Janelle covered her face with her hands, Marisol kicked her feet against the couch cushions like a teenager. The room pulsed with their laughter, their disbelief, their envy.
"You really love the thrill, don't you?" Kayla asked, still shaking her head.
I tipped back the last of my wine, savoring the burn. "Every second of it. The danger, the gossip, the fact that it's wrong but feels so right—it's addictive. And the higher the stakes get, the sweeter the taste."
For a moment, we all sat in the warm glow of wine and candles and mischief, the air thick with possibility.
Later, when the laughter quieted and the girls started gathering their things, I stepped out onto the balcony with the night pressing cool against my skin. My phone buzzed in my hand.
Unknown number.
Enjoy your fun while it lasts.
I stared at the words for a beat, then let a slow smile curve across my lips. Cassandra. It had to be.
I set my glass on the railing, tilting my head to the stars. "Oh, darling," I whispered, a thrill rushing down my spine. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The air was thick with whispers before I even reached my desk.
Heels clicking on marble like a drumbeat, I walked into the building as if the lobby were a runway and the entire floor had been waiting just for me. Maybe they had. Assistants leaned together over paper-stacked desks, voices dropping to hushed tones as soon as my silhouette entered their line of sight. Secretaries side-eyed each other, smirks curling, pretending to shuffle papers. The security guard gave me a nod that lingered a half-second too long, like he knew I was the headline of the day.
Elaine? Gone. Cassandra? Humiliated at the doors yesterday. And me? Still here. Still standing. Crown intact.
The elevator ride up was practically a spotlight moment. A few junior analysts slipped in behind me and whispered as though I couldn't hear them."That's her—""She really got Elaine fired?""Archer's secretary? No way."
I didn't even bother correcting them. Let them murmur. Let the myth grow taller than the truth. My reflection in the brushed steel doors was enough answer—chin high, blouse sharp, the curve of my smile cut like glass.
When I stepped onto the executive floor, the shift was immediate. Heads popped up like prairie dogs. Every step I took across the carpet pulled attention, whispers trailing me like perfume. My desk had never felt more like a throne.
I sat down slowly, crossing my legs with deliberation. Let them look. Let them wonder.
It wasn't even five minutes before Tasha swooped in, coffee cup in hand, moving like a storm wrapped in heels."Girl." She plopped the cup onto my desk and leaned in like she was about to hand over state secrets. "The building is eating this up like popcorn. Word is you had receipts so sharp they cut Elaine's throat open in that meeting. Partners are gagged."
I sipped my latte, letting the foam kiss my lip. "Receipts? Try a slideshow. I had timestamps, login trails, everything. HR didn't know what hit them."
Tasha slapped the desk, grinning like a kid. "You better! And Cassandra? Whew—word is she damn near combusted when Archer told her she was barred. Somebody said she cursed so loud, half the lobby clutched their pearls."
I chuckled, low and wicked. "If she wants to scream, let her. I'll sip my coffee while she burns her vocal cords."
We laughed, the kind of laugh that wasn't even quiet, and I knew ears were soaking up every syllable. Perfect. Gossip wasn't a wildfire I had to extinguish—it was my fuel.
"Don't get too comfortable," Tasha whispered, lowering her tone. "You know she's not done. Cassandra's the type to plot in silk gloves. She'll be back."
I gave a slow shrug, lips curving. "Let her. I'm harder to shake than she knows."
By mid-morning, the call came. Julian's office.
I slid into his space, shutting the door behind me. The blinds were drawn, golden light filtering across his desk. He leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled to his forearms, looking every inch the stern executive.
For a second, the silence pressed heavy. Then he said, low and clipped, "You played that meeting well."
I tilted my head, pretending innocence. "Played?"
His mouth twitched, that almost-smirk, the one he tried to bury under steel. "Don't get smug. You came prepared. You impressed them."
I stepped closer, slow, heels whispering against his carpet. "And you? Did I impress you, Julian?"
His eyes lifted to mine. That gaze—firm, searing—burned hotter than any boardroom applause. He didn't answer, not directly. But his jaw tightened, his lip caught between his teeth for the barest moment.
I leaned against his desk, close enough for him to smell my perfume, close enough for my blouse to shift just slightly. "You don't have to say it," I murmured. "I saw it. That smirk. Approval disguised as warning."
He inhaled, sharp. "Careful, Amira."
"Careful is boring," I whispered back. For one dangerous second, his hand twitched as if to reach for me. Instead, he straightened, reclaiming his mask of control.
"Back to your desk," he said, voice rougher than before.
I let the corner of my mouth curve into a smile sharp enough to slice. "As you wish, Mr. Archer." And then I turned, slow, letting the sway of my hips punctuate every step until his door clicked shut behind me.
The rest of the day unfolded like a coronation. Secretaries drifted past with not-so-subtle side glances, junior associates hovered as if they wanted to breathe the same air. The empire wasn't mine yet, but today it sure felt like it.
At lunch, Tasha leaned across the table in the break room, lowering her voice just enough to keep others straining to hear. "You never told me having a married boss could be this fun. You're glowing. Like… glowing glowing."
I bit into my salad with exaggerated elegance. "Maybe because I'm finally enjoying the game. Turns out, chasing isn't exhausting—it's exhilarating. Dangerous. I never thought it would be this thrilling."
Janelle, softer and ever the truth-bringer, shook her head with a little smile. "Just be careful, Amira. Dangerous games burn fast."
"Then let me burn," I shot back, playful but laced with conviction.
Kiera laughed so loud heads turned. "I told you; this is the kind of mess people write books about. Girl, you're living it!"
Tasha raised her cup like a toast. "To Amira. Our queen, slayer of wives and assistants alike."
We clinked, laughter spilling over like wine.
When I returned to my desk, the envelope was waiting.
No sender. No return address. Just my name written across it in elegant, curling script that screamed Cassandra.
I picked it up slowly, tapping the edge against my nail. The girls' voices from lunch still rang in my head—exciting, dangerous, thrilling. And here it was. Proof the game wasn't over.
I didn't open it yet. Not here. Not while eyes were watching. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, let a smirk spread across my lips, and whispered under my breath, "Let the games begin."
And when I glanced up, across the glass walls of his office, Julian was watching me. Stern face, unreadable. But just for a second, that smirk—faint, approving, dangerous—flickered through.